Midnight Walls
by mockingjayne
Summary: "Deciphering the semantics of who she was, was almost as complicated as drawing the line of what she could be culpable for, given her shaky memories and the gaping holes missing from most of her life. Physically, yes, she had been the one to execute this plan, this mission. But emotionally, she felt just as double-crossed as the rest of them, maybe even more so." JanexKurt


The dull ache of rejection pulsates through her body with every breath. She hadn't had a best friend that she remembered, no one having ever made her priority that didn't revolve around the puzzles shrouding her in quite a long while. She was a merely an option in a floating sea of choices, prettier fish swimming by, gaining the attention that she so desperately sought out.

Those she'd come to rely on the most, the very few she even had in her life, had surely been burned by the news of her betrayal. The truth having made itself revealed - the inkling that had lingered in the back of her mind, like a painful reminder, that she wasn't someone good, that she was undeserving of the kindness being shown to her - the flashes of evil, becoming harder to ignore.

And even as she sits in the hard plastic chair, fingers wedged in her mouth, her nails taking the beating of most of her nerves, she can't help but feel that this is what she deserves. She'd tried to trick them, present herself as an enticing puzzle, alluring and mysterious, that they'd never be able to resist trying to put the pieces back to together, a game of sorts. Except there wouldn't be any winners in this match. No, there was just losers. Her.

Deciphering the semantics of who she was, was almost as complicated as drawing the line of what she could be culpable for, given her shaky memories and the gaping holes missing from most of her life. Physically, yes, she had been the one to execute this plan, this mission. But emotionally, she felt just as double-crossed as the rest of them, maybe even more so.

She hears the door click, and she quickly glances up, yanking her hand away from her mouth, her mangled nails, digging into the white-knuckled fist she's made. But it's not them. They're still in the conference room, discussing her future, heatedly arguing what the ramifications should be for such an act of treason.

Her head sinks again, not wanting to see Kurt's clenched jaw, as he sits quietly stewing in his chair - the only one not talking in that room. His silence ringing out to her through the glass, slamming her in the chest with it's reverberations, absorbing his reticence, the slow decay of what they could've had rotting away any semblance of balance she had managed to achieve in the months she'd crawled out of that bag.

If she were being honest with herself, she knew that she'd lost Kurt long before he'd discovered the harbored secret she'd locked up tight, destroying herself and everyone around her from the inside out.

Convinced that she'd lose him forever if she told him what really happened that night, she'd vowed to keep him at a distance, save him from having to be hurt by her. It was easier that way. Or so she'd thought. But the physical ache she felt with each shove she made towards him to push him further and further away, felt like she was slowly stabbing him in the gut, over and over again - his face wrenching up into unrecognizable pain.

 _That kiss was a mistake._ Stab.

 _Nothing happened, I just don't feel the same way._ Stab. Stab.

 _Maybe it's time I ask for a new lead agent._ Stab. Stab. Stab.

As she said the words, she felt the venom seep down her throat, a silent, "Stop, no, I didn't mean it. Come back" unable to make its way through the treacherous waves of her tongue, only lashing, hurtful words, able to escape.

She was fighting an internal battle with herself, walking a fine line between insanity and preservation, because for as much as she convinced herself that it was easier to punish herself, to sacrifice her feelings to save Kurt from a world of hurt, she couldn't help but notice that he was already hurting, and she was the cause. No matter what she did, they were both going to end up hurt and alone.

Except maybe not alone. At least not in his case.

She can still recall the taste of bile choking her, as she happened to stumble upon Kurt and his ex-girlfriend, pressed closely together, and what she was sure were his lips descending on her's.

She'd looked away, not being able to stomach the image of what she'd so badly pushed to happen. Knowing that you weren't deserving of someone and witnessing someone more worthy of his affection being bestowed with such were two different things. Her face had twisted into the same look of pain Kurt's had reflected back at her's these past few weeks. Wiping away her silent tears, she'd retreated back to her safe house, more determined than ever to not follow through with whatever mission she'd put into motion.

Another bad decision.

A residual shiver courses through her body, sending a shooting pain to the purple bruise pulsating on her chest. Her vest having done its job in preventing bullets from penetrating her, but leaving a lingering reminder of just how close she'd come to losing her life.

Reaching up, she lightly presses at the bruise through her shirt, the sting of pain shooting through her, sending waves of agony violently crashing to the surface. The sensation leaving her with a sense control, having been stripped of her power ten times over, by the man who shot her, the younger woman with longer hair and clean skin, and those deciding her future just a few feet away.

She reminds herself that this is what she deserves. Her hands having been tainted and bloodied a long time ago, flashes of brutal murders haunting most of her dreams, only confirmed by the seeking of penance by her former self. But much like her doppelgänger had likely figured out, no amount of penance would be enough to right all the wrongs, a life given up on a long time ago in favor of saving others, still muddied in the casualties of innocent people in order to carry out this mission.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn't notice the meeting occupants disperse, nor the large shadow hovering above her, staring down.

"You ready?" He gruffly asks, causing her head to shoot up, confusion etched across her face, before fixing her gaze, and nodding.

The car ride is silent on their way back to safe house. The streets having been deserted hours ago at the threat of a blizzard set to make its way into the city any minute. A light dusting of white is present, the cold attempting to seep into the car, and despite having nearly frozen to death last night on a rooftop, she leans her forehead against the foggy window, the coolness alleviating the ache seeming to emanate all through her.

He surprisingly follows her inside, and she tries to hide her shock, while stubbornly wanting to bite out a retort about what his new girlfriend would think. But she thinks better of it, knowing that she's only receiving the punishment she deserves. Exhaustion taking over and leaving her with little fight left.

She turns around to find him closer than she initially expected, causing her to stumble backwards. He instinctively reaches out, prepared to steady her, but she stubbornly pulls away, righting herself.

Flinching back like he's been slapped, he drops his hands to his sides, his face taking a crestfallen appearance, and he doesn't even try to hide it. He's hurt by her rejection, and even she can't figure out what her problem is at this point.

The secret's out. He knows everything. And yet, there he is, reaching for her still, and she refuses to budge an inch to allow him to help remove her self-inflicted armor.

"I'm going to bed," she announces, not bothering to ask whether he's staying or not. It's been an exhausting few days, and her body is quickly running out of steam to keep her insecurities as guarded as she'd like. Adrenaline and fear had already put a chink in the walls she'd built so high, allowing her to run to Kurt as a safe haven in a moment of panic. She doesn't want to stick around and see what else might slip through if she continues standing in his presence.

She slinks to her room, casting a quick glance behind her, Kurt having dipped his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Frowning, she turns back around, wrapping her arms around herself, as if trying to keep herself in tact, before dragging her feet in the direction of her room, refusing to allow herself the comfort of that she so desperately seeks from him.

xxxxxxx

She rises before the sun, having spent the night tossing and turning, startling herself awake several times throughout the night, the sound of two shots reverberating in her ears, as her bruise continues to pulsate.

Pulling her shirt up, she traces the edges of the purple mess spattering across her chest, painting her inked shapes like spilled wine. The trail her fingers make ring familiar, as she recalls the worried expression on Kurt's face when she arrived at his door, disheveled, shivering, and with two holes proudly announcing themselves in the black vest.

He'd grabbed her shaking hands, taking the gun she held gripped tightly. Her eyes alight with fright. Upon noticing the bullet holes, he'd frantically, yet gently removed the offending garment, while silently thanking the kevlar for protecting her. Raking her body for blood or any sort of marring of her skin, his warm fingers fluttering over her skin, inspecting every inch of her, before finally landing on the already formed bruise. His eyes, once focused on the task at hand, flick up to her own, glistening with worry, before grabbing her face, and pulling her shivering form into his own, his hand getting lost in her dark tresses. Incoherent whispers being spoken at her, as she stands frozen, a sigh of relief not quite able to make its way out. The feeling of being wrapped in his warm, inviting arms, worry radiating off of him in heaps, she relishes in what she assumes is her last moment with him, before the truth comes spilling out like the blood that surely would had she not had the forethought to throw that vest on before heading out that night.

His soft, panicky breaths got lost on her cheek, as his head lowered, and she thought back to the week before, when she'd seen him do the same thing to his ex, and she froze, her breath halting. She struggled to break free, her eyes wide with truth.

She closes her eyes at the memory, not wanting to see the hurt flit across his face again as she relayed her betrayal. Despite having spent so much time trying to keep him at a distance, convinced that he'd react badly, she'd still held on to the slightest hope, that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't. That she'd been torturing herself for nothing, that'd he'd understand. The chill that seemed to overtake him as the truth washed over him, stung her numb. She'd been right. But rather than vindicated, she felt sick to her stomach.

Pulling her shirt down, she makes her way through the dark into the kitchen, where she finds a soft light coming from the living room. Her heart jumps, as she tiptoes into the room, spotting Kurt, squished onto her couch, his feet hanging over the arm, a small blanket covering not even most of him, his arms crossed, and his eyebrows knit in worry, even in sleep.

She can't help the smile that escapes from her at the sight of this larger than life man on her tiny couch.

"Idiot," she mutters to herself, smile still lingering.

Not wanting to disturb him, she moves to grab another blanket, and spreads it over him, but he startles at the movement, reaching out, grabbing her arm. Taking in his surroundings, he immediately let's go of her arm, an apology already on his lips, before she can stand straight.

"What are you doing here, Kurt?" she defeatedly asks him.

He steels himself, ready to go twelve rounds with her based on whatever answer he gives.

"I couldn't exactly go anywhere," he says, almost annoyed.

Her face scrunches up in confusion, before he nods towards the front window.

She follows his gaze, peering out through the curtain to find white as far as she can see. Mounds and mounds of snow pile the streets of New York, the bitter wind whipping the flurries in circles, still sputtering out of the sky.

"Oh," she quietly says, coming to the realization that they were both stuck here, alone. No escape.

She moves to head back towards her bedroom, determined to ignore the situation, and continue with her self-exile.

"Jesus Jane, just talk to me," he pleads, tired of waiting for her to open up. Because that wasn't likely to happen if the stubborn look on her face was any indication.

She whips around, ready for battle, determined to push him away once and for all.

"You're a liar!"

"That's rich coming from you," he bites back, swinging his legs over, so he's sitting upright. He runs his hands over his short hair.

She stomps over to him, fists clenched white, her long sleeves getting caught in her balled hands.

"I lied to protect you. You're just a liar."

Glancing up at her with a look of mirth. "You didn't do this to protect me, you did this to protect yourself," he spits out.

She stalks backwards, shocked by his accusation. Thoughts of countless nights going over and over in her head how she couldn't let him know that a version of herself had picked him out, chosen him to make a target, possibly exploited his tragedy to gain access, casting him a casualty of the case, the mission more important than the individual put in the crossfire.

But it was for her benefit. She hadn't wanted to tell him because she didn't want to hurt him, but as she had found, she was going to hurt him either way, she'd chosen to keep the truth from him not for his benefit, but for her own. Because she wanted the control. She wanted him to hate her on her own terms, not those of a person she wasn't even sure she could say was _her_.

Tears well up in her eyes.

"You told me that it didn't matter what I'd done before, that I was a good person," she sniffles through, tilting her head back, as if to stop the tears from falling.

He stands up, grabbing her hands, attempting to direct her attention back to him rather than the ceiling. The sight of her discomfort having always been his kryptonite.

"Hey, look at me, Jane."

Her green eyes shine like emerald, the moisture gathering the color into a richer, more vibrant color.

"I won't, uhh, pretend that this is easy. To find out that I was a…a mark. It…hurts. But I know that that's not…you. That wasn't the Jane I know."

She gives a watery nod, confirming that she was hearing him, but not fully believing what he was saying.

His perfect answers were temporarily soothing, but you can throw compliments and soothing words at the most deserving of people, but if they're not convinced of it themselves, it falls on deaf ears. She knew she was undeserving of his kindness, of his…love, err, care. And with that, a sob tears out of her chest, leaving her crumbling.

He holds her up, not even offering but accepting his place as her pillar of strength, a role he'd become all too familiar with, because even the strongest of people sometimes need a place to rest, and he was that person for her. Her safe haven. The person her former self had sought out, choices unlimited in a sea of agents, to trust.

As she rested in his arms, her ear pressed up against his chest. She couldn't help but wonder if this was what _she_ anticipated. Every action she found herself committing to, she wondered if it was all apart of _her_ plan, one that even Oscar could've been blind to.

Snuggling in closer, she whispers, "I'm sorry."

He kisses the top of her head before whispering back, "Me too. But we're in this together, okay?"

The she's suddenly pulling away, panicking.

"What about Allison?"

"What about her?"

She ducks her head down, worrying her lip. "Well, I, uhh, kind of, umm, saw you kissing her."

He laughs, the first smile she'd seen from him in weeks.

"You sure? Because the only person I've kissed recently is this woman who just showed up at my place and practically attacked me against my will," he jokes.

She feigns innocence, a small smile playing on her lips, eyes aglow. "Didn't really seem against your will."

"Hmm," he hums, his eyes focused on the lip she's just been biting, plump and taunting.

"Kurt," she barely gets out before his mouth is on her's. Where the first kiss had been hesitant and exploring, this one was heated and fervent. Pent up worry, pain, and tension having built up to the point of exploding into this one kiss. His thumbs glide gently across her cheekbones, her fingertips brushing over the tiny hair on the nape of his neck. Stepping forward, she finds herself on her tiptoes, impossibly close, her body pressed firmly into his own, eliciting a groan from him.

Running out of breath, he breaks the kiss, her eyes still closed, as his blink open. Her cheeks flushed, lips thoroughly kissed.

She peeks through her dark lashes. "What are you thinking?"

A blush rushes his cheeks like a schoolboy having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"How long it'll take before you drag me out into that snow," he says with a toothy grin.

"I had a few other…warmer activities in mind first…" she brazenly teases him.

"Jane," he groans, as she pulls him in for another kiss.

She knows _she'd_ chosen him for a reason, and maybe there was some nefarious plan having to do with his access within the bureau, or perhaps it was something far more selfish, suspecting that maybe her future self would need his strength, his perseverance, his loyalty. And as he held her close, his scent engulfing her in a soft lull, his arms rubbing slow circles on her hips, she couldn't help but be grateful, no matter the reason, that her former self had the foresight to send her to him.

xxxxxx

Thanks so much for reading! I really do appreciate each and everyone of you that spends your time reading anything I write. It means a lot. This was inspired by the BTS of upcoming episodes as well as the snow that covered the east coast this weekend. I don't imagine this is anything like how the episodes will actually play out, but it was fun to imagine. Again, thank you!


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